Karma, Naturally

May be it is tonight's viewing of Furry Vengeance (the painfully bad but giggle-producing movie with the charming Brendan Fraser and the smart, funny and gorgeous Brooke Shields ... don't knock it until you've watched it with 8-, 3- and 1-year old boys), but I definitely get the feeling Mother Nature is getting back at me.

Back at what me for what, you, naturally, wonder?

Well, on my recent drive to a friend's cabin in way-up-north Wisconsin, my friend clocked a chipmunk, or similar small furry but clearly slow animal. We both felt terrible, but then giggled at the ridiculousness of it. Of course, we were nearing the end of our eight-hour trip, with an SUV full of boys who just wanted to be playing in sand and water, not twiddling away the hours in the back two rows of my antiquated non-DVD-player-equipped vehicle.

So taking out a chipmunk seemed kind of funny.

You had to be there.

That wasn't the worst of it. During what turned out to be a 10-hour trip home a few days later, I was behind the wheel this time when I saw the car in front of me swerve. I couldn't see what it was serving around, until it was too late.

What had to be a five-foot snake, give or take a foot ... the big, thick, coiled kind, was lounging in the sun on this two-lane country road. Lounging, that is, until my front right wheel caught it. Then it was thump-thump-thumping in my wheel well.

Oh, did I feel terrible. Until I looked at Susan, my friend and co-pilot, who started to laugh. Then I laughed. But, honestly, we both felt guilty for hitting the snake, and for laughing about it.

We had just been enjoying all of God's beauty that week up at Susan's cabin. The sunrise, the sunset, our children and those of two other friends playing in the clear lake water. It really was breathtakingly beautiful up there. Naturally. Untouched by modern man, for the most part.

And here we were taking out God's creatures, one by one.

I really was sorry then.

I really am sorry now.

In the past seven days, I've been stung by three bees.

I had not been stung by a bee since I was a little girl stepping on my neighbor's flower garden. I probably deserved it then, too.

So I think the word got out about me and my killing ways.

And Mother Nature is getting her payback. And giggling, naturally.